


Board Games

by sebbykurt



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Fluff and (sort of?) Smut, M/M, god help me, this is probably the dumbest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebbykurt/pseuds/sebbykurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren blinks down at the box, unable to fight the light-hearted flutter of amusement that warms his gut.  “Twister, Simon, <i>seriously</i>?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Board Games

**Author's Note:**

> A cute boy suggested we play Twister at my grad party and this happened. Wooooops~

There’s a saying, Kieren remembers, about the skeletons hiding in somebody’s closet.  Kieren knows this isn’t literal, that it’s a metaphor for a person’s struggles and regrets, but he’s still expecting to  find something a little more… _serious_ in Amy Dyer’s closet.

Some of her grandmother’s old coats, for example.  Maybe a few pictures, trapped in their frames and stuffed in a box covered in spider webs. 

Kieren isn’t really used to the carefree spirit that Amy was.  Not that she didn’t have spots of darkness, obviously, but her life was more light than anything else.

Which is exactly why Kieren doesn’t exactly know what to do when faced with an entire closet full of old _board games_.

“ _Christ_ ,” he huffs.  A cloud of dust clogs his nostrils as he drops a stack of ancient games on the floor.  “Someone liked games, yeah?”

Beside him, Simon cracks a small smile.  He pulls out a tattered _Battleship_ , shoots it a fond glance, and sets it on the pile.  “My family only ever played _Monopoly_ , and every single one of us cheated anyway.”

Kieren hums as he wipes away some of the dust on his pants.  “Well, that’s the last of the older ones.  Let’s grab some of the newer ones off the top.”

New versions of games like _Clue_ and _Trivial Pursuit_ lay on the top shelf, some of them still wrapped in plastic. 

They laugh at some of the titles, losing themselves in memories.  From the time before the Rising, when things were simple and board games with the family were some of the most dangerous adventures they took.  Anymore, walking out of the house is considered suicidal.

Simon nudges Kieren suddenly, lips twitching into a grin as he passes the younger boy a box.  “Ever play this?”

Kieren blinks down at the box, unable to fight the light-hearted flutter of amusement that warms his gut.  “ _Twister_ , Simon, _seriously_?”

“We should try it.”

There’s something a little suggestive about the way Simon says it, about the way his eyes slide down the length of Kieren’s body.  It makes Kieren’s cheeks burn.  “I don’t even think it’s possible to play with just two people.”

Simon shrugs, pursing his lips as he lifts the top off the box.  “I think we can make it work.”

Kieren doesn’t exactly _know_ why he goes along with it, but in the blink of an eye he’s sitting on the floor with the spinner in his lap, trying not to watch too hungrily while Simon bends over to take his shoes off while still standing.  _Bastard.  He’s doing this on purpose_.

(But if Kieren _really_ has a problem with it, he wouldn’t have offered to take the first spin.)

“Left foot blue,” he announces, crouching with his left foot on a giant blue dot.  “ _Easy_.”

Dipping forward to grab the spinner out of his boyfriend’s hands, Simon presses a quick kiss to Kieren’s lips.  “ _Hmm_.  We’ll see who wins.”

Kieren pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, watching with half-lidded eyes as Simon pulls away and plants his right foot on a red dot.  His arousal isn’t hidden, obvious by the bulge in his jeans, but Kieren knows that Simon won’t go down easy.  Literally.

After a mock argument over who’s the most flexible,  Kieren ends up with his right foot on red and his left hand on green.  It’s an awfully uncomfortable position, seeing as he chose to face up instead of down, and it only gets worse when Simon ends up with a foot between his crotch and a hand right next to his face.

“Ready to accept defeat,” Kieren boasts.  He stretches out his free arm for good measure, faking comfort.  “I could go at this all day.”

He expects a witty retort, maybe even a playful shove, but all he gets is Simon’s silent stare.  Eyes without contacts, the pupils blown wider than usual.  His flesh may be pale, make even sicklier in this light, but Kieren thinks it’s…well, _beautiful_.  Cheeks flushing (and isn’t _that_ a miracle, he lets himself think, that my cheeks can flush when there’s no blood moving through my veins), Kieren reaches for the spinner, but Simon stops him with a hand on his wrist.

It means victory for Kieren, but Simon doesn’t seem to care.

He surges forward, impatience clear in the gesture, and pins Kieren’s back to the ground with a surprising act of dominance.  Kieren chokes on a laugh even as Simon presses insistent kisses at the corners of his mouth.  “If I weren’t dead, that probably would have knocked the wind right out of me.”

Simon doesn’t stop with his ministrations, just drags his lips down Kieren’s chin and across the underside of his jaw.

Figuring there’s no point in postponing the inevitable any longer, Kieren angles his hips _just right_ , letting his eyes flutter shut as Simon moans against his skin.  “ _Jesus, Kieren_ …”

“You know I won, right?” 

Simon groans, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head.  His hair, usually so perfect, falls into disarray atop his head.  “You’re awful with dirty talk, Kieren.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to—“

A gale force kiss is all it takes to shut him up.  The press of a would-be bruise forming on his wrists as Simon pins him down even harder.  Their hips rock and Kieren thinks he could die here, for good this time, on a _Twister_ mat in the middle of Simon’s living room.

But he won’t, at least not yet, because Simon is sitting up again and telling him to take his shirt off before _he loses his_ _bloody mind_.

Kieren rips his shirt off, perhaps a little too eagerly, and lets Simon press him back down, a little more gently this time.  The mat sticks uncomfortable to his skin, but any care to complain is blown to bits when Simon starts pressing kisses down the slope of Kieren’s chest.  His fingers work swiftly at Kieren’s belt.

They’ve done this before, at least a half a dozen times, but Kieren still gets a little nervous every time Simon strips him naked.  He’s always afraid that Simon will finally find something he doesn’t like, will finally snap out of whatever mind control Kieren is unknowingly using on him and run back to his Undead Prophet and the Bible.

As if reading his thoughts, Simon looks up from where his mouth is just above Kieren’s navel.  Their eyes meet and Kieren shivers.  “You’re beautiful, ya know that?”

Dragging a hand across his face, Kieren kind of wishes that the medicine he took didn’t allow for blushing, because then maybe he could try to look a _little_ bit cooler in front of his crazy hot undead boyfriend.  “Shut _up_ , Simon.”

“Bossy, are we?”

“Oh my _god_!”

Simon laughs as he unzips Kieren’s jeans, nudging his hips up and slipping them off.  There’s the almost _awkward_ sound of tarp sticking to sweaty skin, but Simon doesn’t care and so neither does Kieren.

Well aware of Kieren’s self-consciousness issues, Simon doesn’t let his eyes linger too long on Kieren’s naked body.  Instead, he grabs Kieren’s cock at the base and licks a long, torturous stripe across the underside.

Kieren tangles the tarp between his fingers, biting down on his tongue to keep from moaning like a whore.  A tiny whimper breaks through his teeth, making Simon laugh around his mouth.

“Shut up, _Jesus_ …”

Laughter follows Simon as he pulls back and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of lube.  Somehow, Kieren’s cheeks flush a shade darker.

And as Simon warms the liquid between his fingers, Kieren can't fight a smile at the thought that he'll never be able to look at a game of _Twister_ the same way ever again.


End file.
